Every Step of the Way
by innerdialogue
Summary: When Rachel needs him the most, Blaine Anderson decides he'll be there.
1. Every Step of the Way

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

Rachel yanks the door open before Blaine can even knock. She grabs the front of his shirt and hauls him into the apartment.

"Whoa, Rachel!" Blaine laughs. "Where's the fire?"

"In the bathroom," she says, pushing him on the shoulder toward the hallway.

For a second Blaine panics. Is there really a fire in her bathroom? Surely she would have called the fire department rather than him if there was. "Rachel, what are you talking about?"

She doesn't reply, only pushing harder until he's in the tiny closet she calls a bathroom. He looks around, searching for the source of Rachel's distress. Finally he spots the small, white stick balanced on the sink.

Blaine turns around slowly, looking at her. She's holding her arms around her stomach, looking at the ground. "Rachel?"

Rachel bursts into tears, and Blaine barely gets his arms up in time to catch her. He eases them to the floor, collecting her into his lap. Her arms wrap around his neck, her face pressed into his chest. He tangles one hand in her hair while rubbing her back with the other.

It's at least five minutes before Rachel pulls her face from Blaine's chest. She wipes a hand across her face, smearing her mascara.

"I bet you never thought you'd ever be here," Rachel sniffed, wiping her thumb across her cheek.

Blaine looks at her questioningly. "On your bathroom floor?"

Rachel scoffs and shakes her head. "Here with a girl waiting on a _pregnancy test _to see if her life is totally screwed up."

"Hey, hey," Blaine whispers. He scoots closer to Rachel and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight against his side. "Your life isn't screwed up. It's just going to…take a little detour. And you know, for most guys my age a pregnancy scare is a big milestone. The way I see it, you're just helping me with a rite of passage I'd otherwise miss."

"Please no jokes," she whispers. "Not right now."

Blaine nods, rubbing her back again. "Have you looked yet?"

"Not yet," Rachel replies. "I was waiting for you."

She makes to get off of his lap, but Blaine holds her back. "Listen, Rachel. Whatever that test says, you know you can count on me, right? I'm with you, every step of the way."

Rachel gives him a watery smile. She leans forward and presses a kiss against his cheek. "Thank you, Blaine Warbler."

He squeezes Rachel's hand as she stands up and picks up the test.


	2. Warmth and Light

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

Blaine has never felt more exhausted than he does right now. His body feels like it's running on fumes, and he wants nothing more than to collapse into his bed and sleep until next Tuesday. But he knows that as tired as he is, Rachel must want to fall into a coma for a year or so.

At least there is someone who gets to sleep.

The baby boy cocooned in the soft blue blanket on the other side of the glass is sleeping soundly in his bassinet. His tiny pink hands are curled tightly around the blanket's edge, and his small, pink face peaks out.

The feeling in Blaine's chest threatens to burn him alive but not in a painful way. Inside him is the warmth and light of a sun, burning on a fuel that only comes from loving someone so completely it threatens to consume you until there's nothing left. It's like a firework, ready to burst out in a shower of happy, loving sparks—bright and warm. Yes, Blaine loves this little boy, even if he isn't related by blood.

Just as he loves this little boy's mother, too.

"So which one is he?" a voice asks. The warmth Blaine felt a mere moment ago is replaced by ice water in his gut. "No, don't tell me. It's that one. He's got my chin."

"What are you doing here?" Blaine asks, uncrossing his arms and clenching his fists. He glares at the man standing beside him, the one with the _audacity_ to show up today of all days.

Jesse St. James smirked. "Now that's not very friendly. You should be nice to me. I'm a new dad today, after all."

"Like hell you are," Blaine hisses. He steps closer to Jesse. The height difference would be comical in any other situation, but today Blaine isn't laughing. He jabs the other man in the chest. "That baby has _nothing_ to do with you. Nothing. You haven't said one word to Rachel for nine months. Nine months! And now there's a baby, and suddenly you're here, ready to play daddy like it's some role in a musical? Like hell, St. James."

Jesse snorts. "I'm the father, in case you've forgotten."

"You're nothing more than a glorified sperm donor," Blaine spits. "A father would have been there when Rachel first heard its heart beat or when she found out it was going to be a boy. A father would have been there for the cravings and the mood-shifts and the morning sickness. A father sticks around."

The taller man's smile disappears, and Jesse fixes Blaine with a steely gaze. "And what, you think you're going to be the one to step up? A gay man playing house with a woman and the child of another man? What's the kid going to say when both mommy and daddy are bringing home their boyfriends, huh?"

Blaine grits his teeth, fighting the urge to just lay Jesse St. James out on the floor right here. Though he would enjoy it immensely he doubts the nursing staff would find it as appealing.

Suddenly a nurse appears, smiling and rolling Baby Boy Berry in his bassinet. She can obviously feel the tension in the hallway so she keeps the baby close to her. "Mr. Anderson, your wife's about to try breast feeding for the first time. Would you like to come with us?"

Jesse opens his mouth, perhaps to correct the nurse, but Blaine speaks before he can say anything. "I'd love to."

With that Blaine and the nurse move down the hall, leaving St. James standing alone by the nursery window.


	3. Her Boys

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

"I'm home!" Rachel called cheerfully, hanging her coat on the hook by the door and dropping her keys into the bowl. "I know I'm late, but Gregg kept asking to run the last number again and again, and you know that Leanne needs as much help as possible so I had to stay late. How are my boys?"

The scene in their tiny living room made her stop in her tracks.

Blaine was a sleep on the couch, limbs sprawled lazily. His glasses were askew, and his left arm hung off the side, poised above the book he had obviously been reading before he had fallen asleep. On his chest, centered directly over his heart, slept their tiny son, wrapped in the green blanket Blaine's mother had crocheted for him. Blaine's hand rested protectively on the little boy's back, keeping him safely in place as they both slept.

Tiptoeing over to the couch, Rachel carefully extracted the baby from Blaine's grasp and held him to her chest. She gently placed the back of her hand against his soft skin and was pleased to find that he felt cool to the touch. She brushed her lips against his hair and then moved into the small nursery they'd set up in the spare room of the apartment. Gently tucking the blanket around her son, Rachel rubbed his back soothingly before taking up the baby monitor and slipping back out into the living room.

Rachel crouched beside Blaine's head, leaning against the couch. She lifted a hand and gently slid his glasses off of his face, folding them and setting them on the coffee table. Blaine's hair was getting long—she'd have to remember to offer to cut in the morning—but for now she was content to running her fingers through the dark curls.

"Blaine, get up," Rachel whispered, trailing her fingers through his hair. "Come on, sweetheart, let's go to bed."

Blaine awoke suddenly, squinting at her. He murmured something she didn't understand before sitting up abruptly.

"Where's the baby?" he asked, looking around the couch.

Rachel chuckled and placed her hands on his knees. "He's fine, Blaine. I just put him in his crib."

"Oh, okay," Blaine sighed, sagging back into the couch. "Good."

Rachel stood and slid on the couch beside him. "How's he feeling? Any change?"

Blaine nodded. "His fever broke around six this evening. I called the doctor, but she suggests we keep giving him the ear drops for another day at least."

"Poor baby," Rachel sighs. Her hand quickly finds its way back to the curls at the base of Blaine's neck. Perhaps she won't mention the haircut after all. "I remember getting ear infections when I was little. It kills me that he has to go through this."

Blaine smiles and squeezes her leg. "I know. But he's feeling better now, and in a day or two he'll be screaming simply for the fun of it and not because he's sick."

"Yay," Rachel sighed. "I can't wait."

They sat in silence, enjoying each other's company in the quiet of their apartment. With a three month old son, these moments were rare, and Rachel and Blaine knew to savor the rare moments where they could stop and catch their breath. Eventually, however, Rachel nudged Blaine awake again and pulled him toward the bedroom where they changed and slid into bed.

Raising her son by herself would have been impossible, Rachel thought. She knew that there would have been no way she would have been strong enough to do it if she hadn't had Blaine with her every step of the way. He provided her with so much strength, so much comfort, and Rachel knew she was perhaps the luckiest woman in the world to have him.

It was true that even two years ago Rachel would have laughed if anyone had suggested that Blaine Anderson would be helping her raise a child. A child that wasn't his. But although he was not the biological father to her son, that did not mean that Blaine loved him any less. To look at the two of them together, to see the completely love and adoration on Blaine's face as he held their son, or fed him, or even changed him. There was no question who that baby's daddy was.

The real father—Rachel refused to let herself think about _him_ very often—had fled at the very mention of their son. But Blaine…Blaine has_ chosen_ to be there for Rachel and her baby. He had chosen to help build their little family. It was no wonder Rachel had fallen in love with him.

At one time in her life, she would have said that her entire world consisted of the stage, fame, and golden stars. But now? Now her world consisted of the man sleeping beside her in bed and of the little, tiny boy that slept soundly in the crib next door.

Her boys.

Oh, how she loved her little world.


	4. Butterflies in a Hurricane

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

"Stop moving, Rachel, or you're going to get married with an eye-patch," Quinn admonishes, pulling the mascara wand away to avoid jabbing Rachel in the eye. "Is everything okay?"

Rachel runs her hands nervously over her hair, making sure that it was still perfect. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm just—"

"Nervous, I get it," Quinn chuckles. She moves in quickly to finish Rachel's lashes before she can move again. "But please, sit still. I don't want to blind you."

Rachel forces herself to sit stock as the other woman finishes her makeup. She couldn't help that she was excited. She was getting married after all, married to the man that she loved more than anything—well, almost anything.

"Where's David?" Rachel asks. Her son—who was almost a year old now—was going to be one of Blaine's groomsmen, sort of a co-best man with Kurt. Rachel and Quinn had almost had a fit fitting the little boy in his tuxedo. The shoes alone had almost killed Rachel with how cute they were.

Quinn sets the mascara down. "Finn and the boys are distracting him. He'll be ready for the ceremony, don't worry."

There is a knock on the door and one of Rachel's dads pokes his head in. "It's almost show time, ladies. Are we ready?"

Quinn does one more once-over on her makeup and hair before declaring that it is perfect. She hands the bridal bouquet to Rachel before taking up her own and disappears through the door to line up with the other bridesmaids. Rachel's father offers his elbow and she slips her arm into it, letting him guider her into the foyer of the chapel. There, her other father takes her other arm.

"We know you're excited," her dad says, patting her hand. "But please remember to take your time walking down the aisle. You don't have to run."

"I know, Daddy," Rachel laughs, her voice a little shaky.

"There's no need to be scared," her papa adds. "Once those doors open, you'll see Blaine standing there—David, too—and you're going to be just fine, Rachel."

She nods and suddenly she can hear the organ begin to play on the other side of the heavy oak doors. Her fathers squeeze her hands, and Rachel holds her head up high and takes a deep breath to settle the butterflies caught in a hurricane inside her stomach.

The bridesmaids start to move, first Tina, and then Mercedes. After Quinn disappears through the door Rachel knows it's her turn.

Left foot, right foot, left again.

She moves slowly, dividing her focus between staying upright and trying to calm her nerves. She's nauseous, and for a moment Rachel feels as though she's going to be sick from the nerves.

But then she sees him, standing at the altar with his hands crossed in front of him. He's standing there, beaming at her, looking twelve feet tall he's so happy. And as suddenly the nerves appeared they've gone, and Rachel understands why her fathers warned her against running down the aisle. She walks now with bold assurance, each step firmly in front of the other. Past friends and family. Mr. Shue with Emma, his wife. Members of the Glee club and friends from college. And in the front row next to her fathers' empty seats sits her mother who is crying as she watches Rachel walk down the aisle.

And after what seems like an eternity and yet no time at all Rachel is there, standing beside Blaine in front of the rabbi who is about to join them forever in holy matrimony. Her two fathers let go, but she doesn't need them anymore. She's with Blaine, and that's all the strength she needs. Beside him, Kurt has David in his arms, and Rachel beams at her son before looking back at Blaine.

"Are you ready to do this?" he asks, his hand snaking down to wrap itself around hers. She squeezes his fingers, bumping his shoulder with hers.

"You bet your dapper ass."


	5. You're Welcome, Mrs Warbler

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

"If we don't leave right now we're going to miss the beginning," Blaine calls exasperatedly back into the apartment. A glance at his watch tells him that they should have left ten minutes ago in order to make their eight o'clock movie. Sighing, he pushes off the wall and walks toward the living room in an attempt to light a fire under his wife's ass. "Seriously, Rachel, let's go!"

Rachel is rushing around their tiny living room, David in one arm and a pair of earrings she's been trying to put on for an hour in her other hand. "I know, baby. Just give me a minute."

"Really, Rachel, I've got everything under control," Leanne says, moving to take the baby away from her. She has been kind enough to offer to babysit David while Blaine and Rachel go out for the first time since David was born, but Rachel, it seems, is having trouble letting go. She quickly sidesteps the other woman but bumps into Blaine.

"Rachel, give me the baby," he says, holding out his hands. Rachel glares at him, but she doesn't fight him as he carefully extracts David from her grasp. Blaine places a kiss on his son's cheek before handing him to the babysitter. "Right, you've got our numbers and the one for the pediatrician, poison control, and all of the rest. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. We'll be back in a couple of hours."

Before she can reclaim her child Blaine grabs Rachel by both elbows and guides her to the door. She struggles against him, looking over his shoulder.

"There's pre-made bottles in the fridge, but if you run out for some reason there's formula in the top shelf. He won't need to eat for awhile, but when you put him to bed give him half a bottle. He might get a little fussy, but if you just bounce him a little bit that should help. Oh, and when he's in bed he likes to sleep with his stuffed dinosaur—the orange one, not the green one—"

"Thanks again, Leanne!" Blaine calls out as he opens the door and pushes his wife out into the hallway.

"This is nice, isn't it?" Blaine asks, looking up from the menu. He and Rachel are sitting in a nice restaurant, with low lighting and white linens. They don't usually spend the money—let alone _have _the money—to treat themselves like this. If it hadn't been so long since they have been out on their own without having to worry about diaper bags and formula bottles. It's just them, this time, and Blaine will be damned if Rachel doesn't enjoy herself.

Rachel glances up from her phone. "Hm? Oh yes, it's quite nice."

Blaine sighs and drops his menu. "Rachel, you're acting like you've never left him alone before."

She sighs, wringing her hands. "Yes, but it's always been with you, Blaine, never someone else. Not a _stranger_."

He chuckles, turning back to his menu. "Leanne isn't a stranger, Rach. You've known her for almost three years. She's one of your best friends."

Rachel crosses her arms, glancing down at the phone sitting by her plate. "Well, I still don't like leaving him."

"I can't believe this," Blaine sighs, shaking his head. "I'm trying to have a romantic dinner with my wife, and she's spending the entire evening thinking about another guy."

"Don't be ridiculous," Rachel says distractedly, still focused on her phone. Blaine reaches out, his palm face up. She looks up and smiles reaching out to take his hand. Before she can take his hand, however, Blaine moves his hand and snatches up her phone. "Blaine Anderson!"

"I'm sorry I've been so distracted tonight," Rachel says later that night as they walk back from the movie theater to their apartment. She tucks herself into Blaine's side, and his arm wraps automatically around her waist. Autumn is coming to the Big Apple, and already there is a bite to the air. "I'm still adjusting to being away from him, I suppose."

Blaine laughs, brushing his lips against her hair. "Don't worry about it, love. I get it, and I'm thrilled that you're so concerned. I'd be worried if you weren't. I just wanted you to come out and have a good time, Rachel. You deserve it."

She turns to him and wraps her arms around her husband's neck. She presses her lips against his, and the cool New York air disappears from around them. It's only the two of them on the sidewalk. Only the two of them that matter.

After a long while Rachel pulls away, smiling. "Thank you, Blaine Warbler."

Blaine smiles, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You're welcome, Mrs. Warbler."


	6. Sins of the Father

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

"I ran into someone today," Rachel says as she and Blaine prepare dinner. She is draining spaghetti noodles in a colander, and Blaine is stirring his mother's sauce at the stove. David is sitting in his high chair, making a mess of the sliced bananas on his tray.

"Did it make a mess?" Blaine chuckles. He lifts the wooden spoon to taste his sauce. He moves to cutting board beside the stove and scoops more garlic into the pot.

Rachel chuckles humorously. "Oh, haha very funny."

Blaine smiles, bumping her hip with his own as he moved to grab plates from the cupboard. "Seriously, who was it?"

"Jesse St. James."

The plates hit the kitchen table with a heavy thunk.

Rachel turns away from the sink. "I know you don't like him, Blaine, but we were friends at one point. I mean, he's David's—"

"Don't you dare he's David's father," Blaine snaps. He crosses his arms and drops into an empty chair. "That fucking bastard's nothing to our son."

"Blaine Anderson, lanuage!" Rachel hisses, pointing to their son. David has picked up on the sudden shift in tone in their kitchen and quiets down, holding mushy banana mid-way to his mouth.

Rachel crosses their tiny kitchen and kneels down in front of her husband. She squeezes his knees. "You know that you're David's dad, the only dad that he'll ever have. I would never try to change that. I just…you don't know what it's like to have a parent you've never met."

Blaine glares at her. His eyes are starting to get read, and she doesn't know if she's ever seen him this upset. "You're saying that you want to introduce David to him."

"Only if you're okay with it," she says. "Jesse says he wants to meet him. I'd like to give him a chance to step up. Not as a replacement. He could never replace you, Blaine. It's…it's complicated."

Blaine huffs and shakes his head. "If you let him back in, you're basically saying that everything I've done for you and for David didn't mean anything. If you let Jesse meet our son…you're saying that _we_ don't matter."

With that, Blaine stood to his feet and rushed out of the kitchen, leaving Rachel with a crying son and burning spaghetti sauce.

Jesse is waiting for her the next morning in the coffee shop by her theater. She hesitates when she sees him, but eventually she plucks up the courage and makes her way to his table.

"Hello, Jesse," she says, clutching her purse tightly in her hands.

Jesse looks up and smiles. "Rachel! Where's David?"

She sets her jaw and shakes her head. "He's at home with Blaine. I'm just here because I have something to say."

Jesse sighs. "Do you want to sit down?"

"I'm not staying."

She brushes her hair out of her face and takes a deep breath.

"I want to make something _very_ clear," Rachel says, folding her arms across her chests. She squares her shoulders and glares at Jesse. "You are not David's father. He doesn't need another father because he has one. A _great_ one."

Jesse scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"I'm serious," Rachel hisses. She actually stamps her foot a bit, and inside she cringes at the childishness of it, but she steels herself and pushes forward. "I don't owe you anything, Jesse—certainly not my son—and I don't have to do you any favors."

"Rachel…" Jesse says, leaning forward.

"Blaine is a great father," Rachel continues. "He's the best father I've ever seen, _and_ he's my husband. I love him, and we love our son, our family. So, no, Jesse, you don't get to meet our son because _we _don't have a son."

Rachel nods with sureness and finality. "Now, if you'll excuse me I have to go home to my family."

With that, Rachel turned on her feel—the famous Rachel Berry Storm Out—and left Jesse St. Sucks to stew in his own Jesse St. Juices.

Blaine and David are playing on the floor when Rachel gets home. Blaine is sitting against the couch with the baby between his legs. David squeals as his father dances Bruno the dinosaur across his stomach, growing and roaring. Rachel hesitates by the door for a moment before she steps into the room.

"I'm home," she says, hanging her purse by the door.

Blaine looks up at her, and the smile drops slowly from his face. "How'd it go?"

She sighs and walks over to him, pulling her shoes off as she goes. "I drew the line in the sand. I told him that you were David's father, that you will always be David's father, and that he wouldn't be meeting David any time soon."

Blaine nods once and then smiles. "Alright then."


	7. Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**Author's Note: This is the last chapter. Thanks for sticking with it this long. I never thought it would turn into this when I posted the first part as a one shot on tumblr. I love all the little Rainedrops.**

The holidays seem to come early this year, at least for Blaine. One minute it's Halloween, and Rachel is sewing a bumblebee costume for their son to wear, and the next minute they're putting Thanksgiving leftovers away in Tupperware containers. Outside, the city changes, too, with golden leaves and chilly breezes to blankets of snow and poor visibility. Ohio is no different. Snow is everywhere, and the houses are lit with brightly colored strings of holiday lights.

They're lucky this year because Hanukah falls on the week of Christmas, and they're able to fit the visit with their families in one trip. They spend the week with Rachel's dads, and Blaine sits and patiently observes their family traditions. Rachel wants to raise David in the Jewish faith, and Blaine is nothing but supportive so he agrees. His own family belongs to the Methodist church, and Christmas is a big event at the Anderson household. As soon as they'd made plans to return to Ohio, his mother had been pressuring them to stay for Christmas Eve. Rachel had been a tad reluctant, but eventually Blaine convinced her to visit his family. He hadn't had an Anderson Christmas in several years, and if he were completely honest with himself Blaine was quite excited at the prospect of showing off his wife and son to his extended family.

Rachel's old bedroom is small and incredibly pink. Her fathers have obviously left it as a shrine to their star of a daughter—trophies line the shelves, and headshots hang in golden picture frames. They are sleeping in the same bed she had as a teenager. Blaine may not be the largest guy around, but even he feels cramped lying atop the covers of her twin-sized bed.

The bathroom light clicks off, and Rachel appears, dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and an old, faded Dalton Academy t-shirt. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy knot, and Blaine has thought she's never looked cuter.

"I have something for you," she says, producing a wrapped package from behind her back.

Blaine puts down the book he'd been reading and looks up. "Okay."

She hurries to the bed and falls down beside him, pressing the gift into his lap. "I know it isn't Christmas just yet, but it's the last night of Hanukah, so I can get away with it. Plus, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to give it to you in front of your parents."

"What is it?" he asks. He lifts the package into his hands, feeling the weight of it. It's not very heavy. The paper is silver with gold stars all over it. Not exactly Christmas, but totally Rachel.

Rachel grins and shakes her head. "Just open it before I lose my nerve."

Blaine smiles and slips a finger beneath the seam of the paper. He pulls, and the paper falls away easily, revealing a plain white box. Lifting the lid, Blaine looks inside to find what looks like a tiny blue blazer with red piping. It's a miniature version of his old Dalton Academy blazer.

"It's great," he says, smiling. "Though I think it's a little small for David."  
>Rachel grins and shakes her head. "It's not for David."<p>

"I don't…" Blaine trails off, not fully understanding.  
>Rachel's grin widens as she takes the blazer from him and sets it aside before sliding into his lap. Her tiny fingers find his and pull them into place on her flat stomach. It hits Blaine suddenly, like a bolt of lightning.<p>

"Rachel?"

She smiles.


End file.
